A/N: Wow! I've been awed by the response so far. Thank you so much everyone for keeping up with the story! Things will be changing in this chapter and I can tell you for sure, it's better than where it was going to go a few days ago! There are a couple of minor lore characters we'll be seeing now and some major ones later on in the story because of it. Make sure to read the ending author's note if you want to know more. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy today's chapter!


Something I learned from talking about the situation in the plaguelands with Anya is that because this isn't a video game, the world doesn't remain the same for the sake of levelling characters. Case in point, while the Eastern Plaguelands was still choked with Scourge forces, except for an Argent Dawn garrison at Light's Hope Chapel and the remaining Scarlet Crusade forces based in the enclave at Tyr's Hand, the Western Plaguelands had been largely reclaimed from the armies of the Scourge.

The Dawn had encampments on the road north of Andorhal and at Northridge Lumber Camp, while the Forsaken operated from the Bulwark and Hearthglen. The Alliance forces sent some months ago to regain parts of Lordaeron from the Forsaken had been surrounded at Chillwind Camp and wiped out. I tried not to think about that part to be honest.

As strange as having undead travel companions was, I had requested to accompany them as far as the Argent Dawn outpost at Andorhal. Ever since the joint attack on the ruined city and the 'death' of Araj the Summoner, the Argent Dawn had a rather loose grip on control of the city, as neither the Forsaken nor the Alliance forces that had fought there had been willing to give it up to the other. Into that tenuous void stepped the Argent Dawn, the apolitical group of warriors, adventurers, and lords dedicated to fighting the Scourge above all else.

Given the diversity of their group and their reputation for being all-inclusive in the good fight I wanted to, if not join them, at least gain a reputation of my own with their leaders so that I had some influence when I needed it. In this case, I was hoping that doing some work for them to help clean up the Scourge in the Western Plaguelands would allow me access through The Bulwark, the great wall of defence for Tirisfal Glades. While populated mostly by the Forsaken, there were also many Argent Dawn there, and if I wanted to cross into the Glades, they would be the ones to allow me to do so.

All of this was just so I could get to Silvermoon. The only land route from former Lordaeron to Quel'thalas was through the Thalassian Pass from the Eastern Plaguelands to the Ghostlands. Since any commander with half a brain cell - even an undead one - would know to block such a route, I had decided to take the sea route from the Horde docks in Tirisfal Glades. There I could get on one of the Horde supply ships bound for Silvermoon and avoid all of the nasties on the land route. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to remain long before the next supply ship bound for the elven lands, as the Tirisfal Glades were rather inhospitable to the living these days. The Scarlet Crusade learned that lesson the hard way when their monastery fell.

The Western Plaguelands may be largely under the military control of the Forsaken and the Argent Dawn, but until we reached the crossroads to Hearthglen, we were still in enemy territory.

Thanks to the expert woodsman skills of the former Farstriders, our little party managed to avoid most of the Scourge scouts as we travelled west. Those we couldn't avoid, Anya's team sent to their second deaths from afar with excellent marksmanship. I was told to let them do their thing and stay out of the way, which I suspected was more because she was still wary of me and didn't want to risk betrayal in the midst of combat. Although it was likely also because I would have been largely useless when fighting with ambush tactics.

We stayed north of the road, skirting the many burned-out farms and overgrown estates that filled what was once Lordaeron's heartland. As we trekked, the nagging echo of pain and sorrow in the back of my mind was a constant reminder of the horrors the Scourge had subjected to this once lush and vibrant land. After we forded the Thondroril river, the bridge being still in the hands of the Scourge, I could feel the change in the air and earth. The stench of death was lighter, the plaguemist gave way to clouds, sunlight, and deep blue sky. The earth was loamy and rich, fertile for farming. Death magic still hung around the Forsaken, but it was thin and concentrated in their bodies, not the malodorous reek that had persisted and seeped from the Scourge undead I had seen. It seemed there was more of a difference between the undead of the Forsaken and the undead of the Scourge than just the mind control of the Lich King.

As the land became more vibrant, so did my magic. No longer in the tainted lands of the dead, part of my power wasn't being used just to prevent me from being overly affected by the death magic that hung over it. Winds of clean, living magic swept through me, pressing feelings of purity and glorious life into my senses, and enlivening both my nature and fire magic. I felt more at rest and so did the mana humming under my skin. The constant pressing need for retribution and justice upon the force that had decimated these lands was no longer weighing as much on my mind, and I realized that when faced with the corruption of the Scourge, my magic had quite literally been influencing me to lash out against it in the name of the living.

I was curious to see how this would further develop as my powers grew and I had more conflict with the Scourge.

Despite our rapid pace, the need to avoid many Scourge parties near the border delayed it, and it wasn't until our fourth day together that we came within sight of the crossroads, and the forward camp there.

Despite the seemingly mundane camp, it was still incredible to my eyes. The closest analogue I had was seeing military camps in war films or fantasy movies like Lord of the Rings, and it felt incredibly unfamiliar. Colourful tents weren't so much organized as they were placed wherever there was room. Campfires dotted the grass in wider spaces between them. I could see a few small blacksmith forges, as well as what must be fletchers. Pens with cattle and other animals were fenced off on the outskirts of the camp. Some horses had their leads tied to posts here and there, but there were far too few for all of the people here. Sharpened stakes were thrust into the ground on the main approaches into the camp to stymie charges by enemy forces, and a wooden palisade circled most of the camp.

It was one of the coolest things I've ever seen.

Anya gave me nothing more than a long assessing glance before walking off, her rangers in tow, no doubt heading to report to her people here. I was left practically sitting on my thumbs at the entrance of the camp until a runner came and demanded I follow him.

"So this is the one you mentioned? Doesn't look like much." I'd been led to what seemed to be the command tent of this camp. Anya stood to one side with a few other Forsaken, one in full plate and another in dark robes. The middle of the tent was dominated by a large table and the papers strewn across it, most predominantly a large and detailed map of Lordaeron. Across from the Forsaken were several men and women of various races. One absolutely hulking Tauren with the tabard of the Earthen Ring, an orc in gleaming platemail, a stout dwarf with a rifle slung over his shoulder, and two humans. It was the orc, an impressive specimen in plate armour and the tabard of the Argent Dawn, who had spoken. "Helios, is it? I am Argent Officer Garush. Speak, half-elf. How did you come to be in the Eastern Plaguelands, so far behind enemy lines?"

I shifted nervously. What the hell do I do with my hands? Do I salute? No, I'm not under his command. "Uh, as I told Anya when we first met, I was doing some solo practice with portal magic when I fell through a portal that hadn't been fully formed yet. The next thing I knew, I was looking up at the orange skies of the plaguelands. I'd been there before the plague of undeath struck, so I knew the basic geography of the place and headed south and west to get out of there as fast as I could." I scratched my head. " After killing a pack of Scourge I stumbled across in the foothills north of the main road, I was set upon by a larger group and decided to flee. By the time I knew I couldn't outrun them, there were too many to fight alone. Luckily, Anya and her party of rangers came upon me and saved my life." I glanced at her. "Thanks again by the way."

The Tauren spoke up. "Your words ring of both truth and deceit. Yet I can sense no death magic on you. As far as I am concerned, you are no Scourge."

After a pause, Garish stated. "The same goes for me. I know not for what reason you truly were in the deadlands, but I do not believe it was for a nefarious purpose. Speak to Quartermaster Lightspark on the southern edge of the camp, and he shall point you in the direction of our mages. Give them this sigil." He handed me a small runestone with the symbol of the Argent Dawn on it. "It will allow you to purchase services and supplies from the forces of the Argent Dawn, and I'm sure one of them would be willing to make you a portal back to Silvermoon."

So much for the sea route. I nodded, relieved. "Thank you."

He raised his hand to stop me. "But, if you are able and willing, I would ask you to return once you have refilled your pack. I am sure we could find things you could do to aid our cause, and the cause of all who oppose the Scourge, for which we would be most grateful. Our cause here is important, and with the resurgence of Scourge in the east, our situation is dire. You would be well compensated for success."

That made me stop and think. I had a plan. Travel to Silvermoon, trade some lessons from the magisters for aid in fighting the Scourge in the Ghostlands and the Dead Scar, prep for Northrend. Yet...once that fight was done, they would have relatively little to do in the war against Arthas and his minions. Some blood elves would join the Horde offensive in Northrend, sure, but their race as a whole was devastated by the invasion of Quel'thalas, many of their best soldiers followed Kael'thas to Outland and were now lost to them. So while proving a good and useful fighter would win me brownie points with them, what really could they do to help me on the global scale, at least right now, that I couldn't gain elsewhere? There were mages and druids here I could learn from, and the Argent Dawn would soon become the Argent Crusade, one of the leading and most focused groups in the fight in Northrend. Their status as an apolitical organization would mean I could stay above the politics of the Alliance and the Horde, and pass unmolested by both (probably). I could almost see my path if I remained here. And I made up my mind.

"Commander, I should be delighted to accept…"


As it turns out, when not surrounded by the monsters or hunted miles through the hills, and when empowered with magical abilities, killing Scourge could be rather fun. It was gruesome, as many of the undead still resembled the people they had once been. Once I got past that though, using my strengthening magic to incinerate ghouls and shatter the bones of skeletons was awesome.

I blocked the broken blade of an undead, shoving it back when our blades locked. I lunged after it and thrust my sword through its chest. It burst into flame and slid off my blade to the side, flesh sloughing off. The foul odour of burning flesh assaulted my nose, but I was already moving on. I ducked under a swing at my head and struck at the ghoul's feet, sweeping it off its feet. I finished it with a downward thrust through the torso that pinned it to the ground.

Hearing the signature mournful wails of a banshee, I spun around. This bugger seemed like she was trying to sneak up on me, as she was moving rather slowly. Once I faced her, she wailed full force in my direction. I staggered and clutched my helmet over my ears instinctively, a frisson of fear rushing through me. An Argent Dawn guardsman charged at the spirit from its side and swung at it with a heavy two-handed blow that would have cleaved through a suit of steel. The orc's mundane, heavy axe passed right through the ethereal spirit and she staggered when she expected resistance. The banshee, completely unaffected by the unenchanted blade, laid a clawed, ghostly hand on the orc's breast. She screamed as blackened skin spread from the spot, and she fell to the ground a moment later, her body withered and leathery, dead.

Channelling heat through both my hands into a ball before me, I charged a basic pyroblast spell and launched it at the malevolent ghost. The roiling ball of flame impacted and exploded in heat and light. The nature magic I combined with the basic fire spell made the flame hungry, and even after the explosion flame clung to the banshee's transparent form, burning away its essence.

Desperate as it still approached me, I pushed fire along my blade and slashed at its form. My runesword cleaved through the banshee, dissipating its form in a wide line from shoulder to hip. It wailed one last time and disappeared into a glowing ball of ectoplasm which fell to the ground.

Panting, I grinned. Combat was dangerous, yes, but I'd be damned if I'd ever done anything that made me feel so alive. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, I had an emotion high, and I felt glee with the destruction of these abominations.

Speaking of abominations, one of those foul Scourge fleshworks was almost on top of me. Its dominant right arm swung a cleaver the size of my torso at me. I sidestepped past its guard and hacked at the offending limb. The most disturbing part of these creatures was the monster's child-like voice saying things like "I wanna play with your corpse!" with glee.

I grimaced. Some thought that the abominations the Scourge made were dumb because the 'abomification' process damaged their brains. But one of the Forsaken shadow priestesses told me that it was because the soul used to bring the amalgamation of limbs and guts together was that of a child, twisted and contained in the constantly leaking flesh of the monsters. If so, I was glad to be able to send them to their final ends.

The abomination's arm was severed, but one of its left arms swung a sickle at my legs and swept me off my feet. I gasped with pain when I landed on my back but quickly rolled as far from the abomination as I could before it finished me with a coup de grace. Michael Breechlock, the human warrior that had been training me for the past week, had told me that aside from martial skill, the most important factor in a battle with multiple allies and enemies was situational awareness. He'd probably be disappointed by my failure just now, but he had died from a stray arrow to the throat not twenty minutes ago.

I kept rolling until I bumped into a body on the ground, Scourge or Dawn, I couldn't tell, as I immediately forced myself to my feet. I was back on the ground seconds later, having had to dive out of the way of a colossal blow from the abomination that seemed fixated on me for severing its arm.

Roaring with fury, I thrust my hands out from my position on the ground, flame leaping from them. A tongue of fire obscured the abominations face from me and I ceased the flow a few moments later, gasping for breath.

Fighting was bloody exhausting. Wish I'd been told that before I came here.

The abomination was still standing, although its face and upper body were badly burned, flesh sloughing off its ramshackle frame. I only survived the next moments as I recovered from using the last of my mana because the flame had blinded the beast and threw off its aim. Instead of cleaving through my body, the monster's hook-blade carved a furrow in the ground next to me. I yelped and pushed myself to my feet, backing away slowly.

"Over here!" I heard a scream. "They're pushing through the barricades!"

I wished I could go to help my allies, but at the moment I was rather occupied with killing one of the Scourge's shock troops. Without the health pool mechanic of the game, these abominations were far stronger than they had any right to be, shrugging off damage to their bodies with aplomb. Their only saving grace was they were slow and dumb.

Ducking under a blind sweep of a scythe from the abomination's smaller third arm, I rolled to one knee behind it. Jumping up as high as I could, I dug my blade into the abomination's fatty back, dragging a line of split flesh as I pulled down it.

I was pretty sure my nose hairs dissolved from the stench.

Spraying fire directly into its body through the gap, I yelled as it sputtered out far too soon.

I was way too spent for this shit. We had been fighting for what seemed like hours now.

Gasping in pain from my cracked rib shifting, a memento of the first abomination I faced earlier, I hacked wildly at the abomination's torso and spinal region until it finally thudded to the ground, torn practically to pieces. I felt like celebrating until an arrow whizzed past my head and, staggering, I turned to see it had saved me from a ghoul about to claw me to pieces.

It wasn't over yet. Lurching unsteadily to the war machine I had been going for, I sheathed my blade and struggled to turn the heavy iron and wooden ballista. After a minute of scrabbling in the mud, fruitlessly trying to rotate the damned thing so it could be useful, I was joined by a powerfully built tauren - who was I kidding, all of them were massive - and an orc with a badly dented shield. Together, we managed to push the ballista to face our southern barricade, where the shattered line of defences allowed ghouls, zombies, skeletons, and several nerubians to flank our main force protecting the eastern front. Using the lever that changed the war machine's vertical angle, I cranked it until it was pointing at the mother of all spider-things that seemed to be in command of this attack. I smashed my gauntleted hand on the release mechanism and watched as the heavy steel-tipped bolt punched a messy hole in the Nerubian's side and killed the Scourge commander.

The Scourge wasn't like mortal foes. They would not likely break and flee from combat due to the death of their commander, but their fighting would be disorganized as they began to obey their warped instincts instead of commands.

"Retake the barricade! Force them out!", someone shouted and a motley collection of volunteers, adventurers and former soldiers of Lordaeron charged at the break in our lines. I saw Thann, our resident expert dwarf blacksmith, rushing towards an armoured skeleton with nothing but his smithing apron and a blacksmith hammer.

Sighing with exhaustion and swigging a mana potion, I turned to face the two that had helped me with the ballista. "Come on men, our work here is almost finished! Let's show these monsters why you don't mess with the Argent Dawn!" The orc roared and the tauren bellowed, and we charged in behind the others, bloody blades in hand and cracked armour over our bodies, bent but never broken.

There are worse fates than dying after all.

I hefted my runesword before me like a lance and smashed right into the first scourge I met. Pulling it from the falling body's flesh, I heaved a wide swing and decapitated a skeleton. Three more of the bony things were bowled over, their bodies were broken apart when the tauren ran right through them like a train and busted the helmeted skull of a zombie with his eight-foot-long staff. The tauren druid raised his hand into the sky and a lance of moonlight burst through the gray, cloudy sky and struck a ghoul, burning it to ash.

The orc meanwhile, was tanking the hits of several Scourge with a shield the size of the dwarf next to him, said companion wailing on the closest Scourge with a large axe. I saw the orc bash into the group with his shield, throwing them back, then spinning in a whirlwind with his blade and slicing them to pieces, some losing limbs, others slowing from gashes to their torsos

"The eastern line is clear! Reform the southern front!"

All along our chaotic barricade battle line with the scourge, we pulled together behind those with shields and heavy armour, reforming our shield wall.

"Prepare for bombardment!"

Those in the front crouched lower and ducked behind their shields to completely cover their bodies. A few Scourge climbed over the shield wall but were quickly hacked apart by the more varied warriors behind them. At the cry of "Now!" we dove to the ground and covered our heads. A fireward would have let me watch if it was just fire that was being used, but a rank of archers fired a volley of arrows into the swarm as well and I had to dive into the dirt like everyone else. Looking up, I could see arrows whizz into the packed scourge line and felled many, but more took their place. Then heat burned through the oxygen around me as several flamestrike circles were formed in the bulk of their formation and melted their line. Another wave of arrows cleared more of the undead, and I saw gaps in their line. Seeing the opportunity to retake the initiative, I cried "Formation: forward!" and got to my feet with the rest of the group as the arrows and spells ceased. Our tanks separated and we flowed through, dealing death to any undead in our path. "No mercy for the dead!" I shouted, and the line was taken up by the rest of our group, hope surging in my heart.

"No mercy!" dozens of voices yelled.

"Send them back to their graves!"

The cheers nearly deafened me, but evidently, it worked. Our reformed line pushed past our broken barricade and scythed through the grouped Scourge like chaff. I kept swinging my blade and marching forward as I did, using my mana sparingly until it was needed.

Before I knew it, there were no enemies in front of me, only bodies on the ground and the pungent stench of death and decay. Seeing the rest of our warriors finishing up their own enemies and cheering at this victory with their blades in the air, I yelled to make sure I was heard. "Watch your feet! Clear the dead and pull back the wounded!"

Despite my relatively new rank as a Knight of the Argent Dawn, with almost everyone here having more experience than me, they listened. Some started carrying our wounded back into the camp I had called home for the last two weeks, while the healthiest among us started systematically crossing the battlefield and stabbing the bodies of the dead to make sure they weren't faking. It wouldn't be anything new. The men and women here all had stories or personal experience of seemingly 'killed' Scourge playing dead and rising up to stab them in the backs. Most Scourge forces lacked intelligence, but any undead other than the ghouls had a certain low cunning that made such ambush tactics popular. With the state of their bodies, it was hard to tell what had been sent to a second death and what hadn't. Later we would burn all of the fallen, honouring our dead in individual pyres, and stacking the bodies of the enemy in a mass cremation.

But for now, this battle was over.

Wincing, I clutched at my scratched and bloodied cuirass. I knew I had at least a few cracked, possibly broken ribs, in addition to the weeping thin gash on my arm where a blade had managed to skip under the plated back of my bracer, but until I removed all of my armour or the adrenaline wore off, I probably wouldn't notice any other major injuries since my entire body felt like one big bruise. Wiping my blade on the cloak of a dead human, I trudged my way back through the barricade that a number of dwarves were already hauling lumber to fix. The healers' tents were in the middle of the camp to prevent a surprise attack like this one from killing our helpless wounded. Healing magic here was hella effective, but given how many wounded and how few healers we usually had, everyone was stretched thin and triage was implemented. Healers paid a cost for the power and usefulness of their magic; it was damn tiring.

With my limited, non-life-threatening wounds, I'd probably be waiting a while. I'd gotten good at healing cuts and abrasions under the tutelage of our druids over the last few weeks, but my skills hadn't reached the point to mend bones and internal injuries aside from patch-up jobs for life-threatening injuries that would give me just long enough to find a proper healer.

With that in mind, I channelled the little mana I had left from my impromptu potion into healing the gash on my arm and left the rest for later. Luckily, healing magic also cleansed wounds, so I wouldn't have to worry about infection.

I was just about ready to drop, so I headed to my tent. The healers would be busy for hours until they could see me, and I was in no danger of dying right now.

Ducking under the flap of heavy wool, I tiredly stripped off my battle gear and set it on my wooden armour stand. Ordinarily, I would clean and oil it before anything else, but it was so damaged after this fight it wouldn't do me much good. The cuirass over my right side where my cracked ribs are was dented inwards from the hammer-blow I had taken there. It saved my life, but now it's scrap. My sword I gave a bit more attention to. The runes on it ensured it wouldn't rust or lose its edge, but if I clashed with a stronger enchantment, my blade could still be notched. Your weapon is your life. Luckily, there was no damage to it. Sheathing it and putting it against my bedside table, I sighed and sat heavily on my cot. This was a long-term, though not permanent camp, so I was lucky to have a cot instead of a bedroll.

Stripping off my filthy and torn leather jerkin was a lesson in pain, but several minutes later I had managed to remove my mostly ruined gear. A small washbasin and bar of lye soap were useful for cleaning my body, and after slipping on a new pair of breeches and a tunic I had acquired from the quartermaster, I flopped onto my bed and closed my eyes. I was out instantly.


A/N: And that's chapter three! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I spent all day today (the 21st) writing it from start to finish. Helios has scrapped his plan to travel to Quel'thalas and has joined the Argent Dawn, the core of the soon-to-be Argent Crusade! He's busy grinding rep and earning rank so he can influence events. A few tidbits of key information to the right people about future events may just see to that as well! We got to see some more combat, this time a proper battle when Scourge forces attacked the Argent Dawn camp protecting the approaches to Andorhal and Hearthglen (if you weren't paying attention, it's just to the east of the crossroads in the middle of the Western Plaguelands). I formulated a better long-term plan while at work Friday night. Helios is increasing in strength and skill but isn't OP quite yet. That will take time, experience, and better equipment. I have an idea of what I want Helios to gain and learn, but you might have a better idea, or have cottoned on to my plan. The story is picking up and we have some new characters, one of which is Argent Officer Garush! If you don't remember him, he was an initial Western Plaguelands quest-giver camped out at The Bulwark, responsible for "The Mender's Stead". Given in this story the Argent Dawn pushed east after the battles for Andorhal and the raid on Scholomance, he has taken joint command of the forces Helios now finds himself among. Others will be joining him next time, both existing lore characters and some new ones! Follow, favourite, and review!

Note: Edited 12/03/22